Tell Me Something Secret
by padfoot's prose
Summary: "Tell me something secret," Kurt suddenly murmurs, making Blaine look up. "Tell me something that no one else knows."


_**Tell Me Something Secret**_

**by padfoot**

**...**

They're lying back on Kurt's bed, the heat of the summer sun still warm and yellow on the covers. Blaine is absorbed in a book while Kurt lays next to him, eyes closed and body still. His deep breaths are the only sound in the room, aside from the swish of curtains as a warm breeze wafts through them.

"Tell me something secret," Kurt suddenly murmurs, making Blaine look up. "Tell me something that no one else knows."

Blaine chuckles and puts his book down, leaving it sprawled almost flat on the bed, the creases in its spine deepening like wrinkles on a long-loved face.

"Like what?" he asks, gaze on his boyfriend, searching for something, some clue as to where this has come from.

Kurt moves a bit where he's lying, rolling over a little and opening one eye, fixing it on Blaine.

"A secret," he repeats. "Just something new. Something I don't know already."

"I _can't_. You know everything already," Blaine says, rolling his eyes and leaning down to nuzzle close to Kurt. His nose skims over Kurt's ear, then his cheek, and at an awkward angle with their bodies too close, Blaine's lips tilt to touch Kurt's lightly.

It's a summer kiss – a breath of warm, lazy air, a drop of water from a garden hose, a sigh into a yellow afternoon sun. Quick and light and beautiful.

"Come on," Kurt urges. "Tell me something. Please."

He's pouting and it just isn't fair, so Blaine slumps back against the bed head and stares up at the ceiling, wracking his brains for something he's never told Kurt before. Never told anyone before. Beside him, Kurt waits. Silent and still, his only movements the blinking of his eyes and the soft rise and fall of his chest. His hand stretches over to touch Blaine's thigh gently, stroking the soft fabric of his shorts, curling against the heat of his skin.

"When I was a kid-" Blaine begins, and he instantly feels Kurt's eyes on him. Biting his lip, he keeps looking at the ceiling. "-I was on this drive with Mum. We were just going to the shops or something, nothing big. But, I wanted to ask her this question, this one thing. And I used to do this thing, where I'd weigh stuff up in my head. I'd try to work out if I was young enough for my questions to sound innocent, young enough for people to be honest with me, because they didn't think I knew any better. Usually, I'd decide it wasn't worth asking – that I was too old for it to be worth it. But this one time, I actually had the guts to ask.

"So we'd just come out of this tunnel, and were maybe ten minutes from home. And I turned to my Mum and asked, 'What would you do if I were gay'? I don't think I knew at the time. I would've been six or seven, old enough to know what it all meant, but not old enough to know if it applied to me. Anyway, I remember Mum sitting there, silent, for a bit. And then she finally said, 'I'd accept you for who you were. I'd be happy for you. It would be hard – it would be hard for everyone – but I don't think it would change a thing.'"

Blaine's eyes are still fixed on the ceiling.

A ray of light is streaming in from the window and lying across his face, lighting him up like a god, like someone so much greater, someone worth so much more than any other person. Kurt stares up at him, awestruck, lost in the image. Until with a start he realises there are tears in Blaine's eyes. Tiny droplets sending rainbows ricocheting off the walls.

"She lied to me," Blaine whispers and he opens his mouth to say more but nothing comes out. Just a breath – shaky and stuttered.

_She lied to me_.

Kurt moves his hand off Blaine's thigh, rolling over further so he faces his boyfriend's side. Carefully, he lifts Blaine's hand off his lap and tugs it down, wrapping it around his own cheek. Pressing a kiss to the palm, Kurt keeps his grip on Blaine's hand, feels it tighten – fingertips tensing around his jaw, the shaking piercing into his skin like a tattoo. All he can do is kiss it again and again, let himself feel every tremble against his lips, let himself swallow it down. Let himself listen to the words echoing in the warm, lazy summer air.

_Tell me something secret._

_I can't._

_I can't_

_I can't._


End file.
